Page 20 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

RYAN

THE ART OF WAR

O f three things, I was certain.

Thankfully, I had been able to sleep most of the way from Honey Hollow to Louisville, Kentucky. Willow was a beast at long stretches of driving and didn’t look the least bit winded after seven and a half hours of mountain roads.

Unfortunately, that’s when the music started.

She had been listening to an audiobook with a single earbud in while I was asleep, but as soon as I sat up, she queued up the boy bands.

We made it to Louisville and swapped seats after a pit stop to eat, caffeinate, and take bathroom breaks.

I immediately put a stop to her playlist. She protested for a solid ten minutes before popping her earbuds back in and leaving me to my Billy Joel.

The peace didn’t last long enough for us to even get out of Illinois.

“You said we had sex?!” Willow shrieked as she ripped out her headphones. “ Ryan—I don’t know your middle name—Ford , what the hell is wrong with you?!”

I turned down the volume and glanced at her. “Wanna loop me in?”

Willow flashed her phone screen at me. I didn’t take my eyes off the road for long, just a split second to see the cover photo for the Leading Man podcast.

My podcast.

“Aww, I’m touched, cupcake,” I teased with a grin. “Thanks for your enthusiastic support.”

Willow growled as she looped the podcast through the car’s speaker system and hit play.

“Look, man. All I’m saying is that you gotta take your time.

Stop rushing into things. Your goal shouldn’t be one night.

It should be all of them. If you’re just looking for a hook-up, then my programs aren’t for you.

This isn’t amateur hour, bro. Now, when I’m with my lady, I make it all about her.

Like life, sex isn’t fifty-fifty. You’ve gotta take turns giving each other the entirety of your attention.

If she doesn’t get your entire attention, she’s not going to give you hers.

You’ve gotta stop treating it like a race where you’re both running at the same time.

That’s not teamwork. That’s competition, and you’ll always be keeping score against each other.

Long - term relationships are a relay. You’re running with the baton, then you hand it off while she runs.

You cheer each other on and get ready for it to be your turn again.

“Now, you asked about sex. Good sex doesn’t require a big dick.

I mean—it doesn’t hurt. You’ve just gotta know how to use what you’ve got.

Thankfully, I have a big dick and know how to use it.

I have a very satisfying sex life, but I’m not qualified to give advice on your sex life.

So head over to my website and click the resource tab.

You’ll find links to vetted professionals who can help you navigate the specific frustrations you and your partner are experiencing.

Thanks for calling in. We’ll get to the next call after this message from our sponsors. ”

I remembered that call. The guy had been annoyed because his partner wouldn’t put out.

Sometimes I could help with those particular calls.

Nine times out of ten, it wasn’t a sex issue.

It was a lifestyle issue. One party was exhausted because they were carrying a heavy mental load.

It was a partner not feeling seen, heard, or emotionally safe.

Even in long-term relationships, the need for emotional reassurance is just as great as the need for physical connection.

Willow hit pause as the ad spot came on, accompanied by some cheery theme music. “ What the hell, Ford ?” she hissed.

“I thought it was a decent way to handle it,” I said. “I made sure he knew he had to put in effort beyond the bedroom, and then handed him off to some pros.”

“ When I’m with my lady. Big dick. Satisfying sex life, ” she growled. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

“I’m more curious about why you’re listening to a podcast you claim to hate.”

“I was bored,” she hissed.

“Baby, I’m flattered that you can’t live without the sound of my voice, and I thank you for your streams. But I’m right here.

You can talk to me.” I reached around into her open bag and tapped the red paperback cover of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.

“Or are you just studying up to ‘know your enemy’? Also, yes. I do have a big dick. If you want to take it for a spin, let me know.”

Willow pinched the bridge of her nose. “Everyone knows we’re ‘together’ right now. Ergo, when you say shit like that, they’re assuming it’s me that you’re sleeping with. My readers are listening to your podcast now.”

“I know. The streams jumped up overnight after Rom-Con.”

“ Ryan. ”

I decided to put her out of her misery. “Look at the date of the episode.”

She scrolled up to the episode description. “My point exactly. It was the week after Rom-Con. So, not only do people think I’m sleeping with you, now they think I put out easily.”

“It was pre-recorded, Willow,” I said gently.

“ Before we were together. I was traveling for speaking engagements before Rom-Con and had to batch episodes for the month so I didn’t get off schedule.

I just started recording all the episodes for this month.

And just to be clear, I haven’t been with another partner for quite a while.

That’s why I’m vague on the podcast. Because I do protect the privacy of the men and women I’ve been romantically involved with.

Not everyone is comfortable with that level of public visibility, and I respect that. ”

The lines that crisscrossed her forehead softened. “Oh.”

Neither of us spoke until we stopped in St. Louis for a late dinner. Even then, Willow was quiet while we ate.

"Are we gonna do the next leg to Kansas City and sleep there, or do you want to go all the way?” I asked.

We had been trading driving shifts since we left Queens right before midnight, and we were nearing twenty-four continuous hours on the road. Everything hurt. I wanted to stretch out, but I knew Willow was antsy about getting to her family.

She sighed. “If we go all the way to Manhattan, we’ll get there in the middle of the night. I can’t check into the rental until 10:00 a.m.”

“Kansas City it is.”

“I’ll drive,” she said glumly as she took the keys from me.

I caught her hand in mine. “You sure you’re good to drive? I can keep going."

Willow’s mood had shifted to morose as we neared Kansas. I didn’t blame her. She was exhausted and grieving. The road delirium muddled the clarity of emotions.

Willow nodded. “I want to be able to sleep when we stop. I need to be more tired.”

I cupped her cheeks and brushed my thumbs over the bags beneath her eyes. “I think you’ll sleep just fine.”

Green eyes lifted, slicing me to the core with emerald prisms. “Every time I close my eyes, I think of Shep.”

I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her.

Willow came willingly and rested against me.

“Let’s get a hotel room in Kansas City. Stretch out.

Shower. Brush our teeth. We’ll sleep in, check out, and then do the—what—two?

Three hours left? Then you’ll be rested and ready for whatever you need to do when you get there. ”

I expected her to argue and say she was fine sleeping in the car again. But to my surprise, she nodded. “Okay.”

I kept my arm around her as we walked out to the car. After 1,200 miles with 375 left to go, her poor sedan desperately needed to be washed. “Have you told Whitney and Wander?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I figured I’d tell them when we get settled. Whitney’s pregnant and Wander’s on a deadline. I don’t want to bother them.”

“They’re your best friends,” I said as Willow merged onto the highway. “I would think they would want you to bother them. What’s the point of friendship if you don’t?”

She didn’t respond.

Back at the restaurant, I had snapped a photo of our hands beside each other, staying true to my promise of not posting our faces or anything overtly romantic.

I posted it to my socials with one single word as the caption: Life.

“I’ve got a question,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Apparently, that was enough to startle her out of her sadness. It wasn’t my intention, but it was a bonus. I liked seeing her smile. Hearing her laugh.

“No,” Willow said when her laughter died down.

“What do you believe, then?”

She drove in silence for a moment before answering. “I believe that love takes work. I believe that there are two people in a relationship. You and your partner. And if you don’t love both of them, flaws and all, then it will never work. No matter how much you want it to.”

“I agree.”

Willow looked genuinely surprised.

“But that didn’t answer my question. If you don’t believe in love at first sight, what do you believe in?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She chuckled. “Liar. You’re too logical for that.”

“There’s logic and there’s fate. And I’m humble enough not to argue with either of them.”

“So, you believe in fate and love at first sight. Let me guess. You also make wishes on shooting stars and look for four-leaf clovers?”

“Don’t you?”

Willow hesitated. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “Because no matter how much you love someone, it ends. And it hurts. And it hurts everyone around you. My parents fell in love and still divorced. My mom fell in love with Shep. But they divorced. Shep fell in love with Lisa, and he died. There’s no positive outcome to life.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” I said as I took her hand. “We know how it ends for every person who has ever and will ever walk the earth. That’s why you have to make the most of it. Every adventure ends. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

Something I said made her flinch, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. “Hey?—”

“I’m fine,” Willow said as she quickly wiped a tear away and put both hands on the wheel.

“I’m sorry. I?—”

She just shook her head and rested one hand on the center console. “Shep said something similar when I talked to him last week.”

I laced our fingers together and held her hand all the way to Kansas City.

We headed west, chasing the day’s last rays of sun until it lingered just over the horizon, then disappeared.

Finally, we pulled into a motel parking lot.

While Willow pulled out the things she wanted for the night, I headed into the matchbox office and got us a room.

For sixty bucks a night, the place wasn’t bad. The room was simple but clean, with two full beds and a functioning shower. Willow was on the phone with Lisa, making plans for the next day, so I rinsed off first. When I had dried off and brushed my teeth, Willow was saying her goodbyes.

“How’s Lisa?”

“Hanging in there. I told her you’re coming. She can’t wait to meet you.” Even though she said, “can’t wait,” in the drollest, most sarcastic tone of voice, I knew she was just trying to make light of the situation.

“I can’t wait to meet her, too,” I said as I crawled into the bed closest to the door and plugged my phone into the charger. “I’m excited to see where you grew up.”

Willow grabbed her things for the shower and a stack of clean clothes. “Small town life isn’t nearly all it’s cracked up to be. I romanticize the shit out of it in my books. You’ll get bored in a day.”

“You trying to scare me off, cupcake?”

“It’s a warning,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the bathroom door.

“Wills—”

She stopped and glanced at me.

“I don’t scare easily.”

Her fingers tightened around her clothes. “I’m starting to figure that out.”

“And for the record, I didn’t believe in love at first sight until I had to run to the store for contact solution the night before a conference.”

Willow froze, startled at my confession. But she doubted me. Instead of saying what she really wanted to say, she simply replied, “Go to sleep, Ford. You’re delirious.”